


Nightmares

by antisepticeye (lovelykenobi)



Category: markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 17:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10859082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelykenobi/pseuds/antisepticeye
Summary: The egos are back, gaining power, reappearing more and more. It just like before. This time, will they win?





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> WHILE YOURE READING   
> CONSIDER LISTENING TO:   
> https://open.spotify.com/user/oswinoswuld/playlist/38ucX5PYnePWT3f1OXBY8Q (My darkiplier playlist!)  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/oswinoswuld/playlist/3V8AYH3qTrm3b1bTfhdD5S (My warfstache playlist) 
> 
> This is a little short fic I've been working on. I hope everyone enjoys!  
> Thank you for reading, xoxo KC

The nightmares were getting worse. There was no denying it-- it was interrupting Mark’s life more and more, crawling into his brain, infiltrating his thoughts-- the end of the world, the steadying of a hand pulling the trigger, the lifeless look in the eyes of the dead. Amy had tried to comfort him but the truth was something so deeply painful and terrorizing just couldn’t be helped. 

He steeled himself. The nightmares always felt so  _ real,  _ and distancing himself from the terror they instilled in him was the only thing that lessened it. He had to distract himself, and recording always helped. He felt like the fear and the rest of the world could just fade away once the camera was on. He opted for a horror game to record, as joking on them and playing tough often helped him dismiss his own personal fears. Making jokes of the demons in the game helped him cope with his own personal demons. 

He was about halfway through the video -- it was a strange horror game, admittedly, the whole premise of it encouraging the player  _ not  _ to play the game. Mark was starting to feel better, the vividness of his nightmares fading into nothing but distant memories, a vision in a video game, a recollection of a horror movie. 

And then everything went black. 

The blackouts had started some years before, but they’d lessened as he’d grown older, and had almost tricked Mark into thinking  _ he  _ was gone. But he’d been coming back, interrupting recordings and leaving Mark feeling sick, weak and powerless for hours. Dark used him like a battery, draining all of his energy from him to get the attention he desired, sucking life from Mark like a parasite. 

_ Finally.  _

_ Dark had been cooped up in Mark’s head for so long, and finally breathing the fresh air and seeing the world around him felt unbelievably good. The others had been mad about this, of course. _

_ “why is it always your turn, Dark, let me have a go!” _

_ But he was out. In control. The power of the camera, what he could do: electricity, coursing through his veins and he almost wanted to laugh _

_ He stretched, aware of his surroundings, aware of the clothes that he didn’t quite like -- Mark was always so casual.  _

_ While he respected his compatriots inside of that prison of a mind, he’d longed for freedom, for the attention of the fans. To him their minds were putty, waiting to be molded and shaped and controlled, an instrument waiting to be used.  _

_ And they loved him. God, did they adore him.  _

_ He knew the others for waiting for him. This was just a little teaser of the grand plan, but it made him hungry for more.  _

_ He did his little bit, put on the show. He wanted more than anything to stay, to keep control, but he knew he would have his little eternity when the time came.  _

_ Dark made sure to cover his tracks. A little bit of insurance-- only the fans would see it.  _

Mark woke with a start. Another nightmare, but -- 

He remembered the blackout.  _ Woah, okay, that was not happening again.  _ When he checked, though, his recording file was just where he’d left it-- not a trace of Dark. He checked the channel - nothing. Maybe he had just blacked out? It was true that he hadn’t been sleeping well and he’d been overworking himself incessantly. Maybe that’s all that it was. 

He hoped so, at least. 

_ The others were waiting for him. Dr. Iplier and Google had become fast friends -- analytical, planning, factual. Will was waiting for him. They’d assigned themselves as sort of co-leaders of the whole operation-- with Dark’s power and manipulation and Will’s trickery and skill, they were only getting stronger.  _

_ For Dark, it’d always been easy to take Mark over. Mark was weak, sensitive, too kind for his own good - the barrier between him and Dark was so thin, it could be shattered with almost a breath. He only had to pass through.  _

_ But the problem was that Mark was protected. After some time, he could fight back, and the problem was that people around him cared too much -- they could tell, no matter the act Dark put on, no matter the sweet words and the tricks he played with their heads-- it never worked. They allowed Mark to find the weakness, to push through and regain control again.  _

_   Except for the fans. They loved Mark but they went crazy for them, and that was the weakness they were planning to exploit. Dark’s energy charged with attention, and Mark had already garnered the attention-- now all they had to do was turn it to them, not Mark.  _

_      And then they were free. There was the problem, of course, of sharing -- some might get less control than others: certain egos just weren’t capable of that control. They’d be far too drunk on the power to achieve any goal.  _

_     “How did it go?”  _

_ Will had always agreed with Mark on a lot of things -- attention, violence, and the will be free.  _

_    They do say that those who are the most powerful tend to find themselves working together.  _

_      “Well. I think every day is only one day closer.” His voice didn’t echo here like it did in the real world, this liminal space between living and dying, reality and fiction.  _

_     “Gentlemen.” Google said. Here, their voices were just copies of Mark’s, a figment of the imagination. Google’s appearance on April Fools had been quite profitable-- making it only easier for them to achieve access to Mark’s mind -- and they’d let him move up in status somewhat. They ran the show still, but Google now had more of a voice. _

_ Warfstache took a sip of his coffee and it only reminded Darkiplier that of all the places he could be trapped, it was a stereotypical office building. What worse kind of place to imprison your selves than an office? _

_ Warfstache giggled.  “Every day is closer. Soon, we’ll be out of this place.”  _

_ Will had been breaking the boundaries between Mark and them, pushing against it and slowly weakening him. Tiny cracks had been forming, closer and closer to a complete shatter.  _

_ Through dreams, he was able to show Mark the fantasies - the objectives - of the egos. Darkiplier wanted to be in control, he wanted to be adored, he wanted power and control. Google wanted to see mankind burn. Warfstache didn’t really want anything -- chaos and blood would suffice-- his idea of fun.  _

_ The Host wanted more than anything for what he’d written to unfold the way he wanted. He was the only one of the others that wanted to see the future belong to them-- the rest? All they wanted was recognition. To live. _

_ “His future belongs to us, Will.”  _

_ “His life.”  _

Mark thought he’d pushed him out. Dark had been gone for so long, so quiet. The rest of them-- he could’ve almost forgotten. The last time-- he thought that it was over. He’d let himself believe that there was an end to this hell.

But the nightmares weren’t going away, just like before. Mark feared that he might lose control this time, slip into the dark nothingness behind the barrier and never come back out again. 

They were getting stronger and he wasn’t, his defenses were weakening. 

Maybe Dark, Warfstache, everyone; they were a part of him. You can’t escape yourself, no matter how fast you run or how much you try and forget. 

They  _ were _ the heart of the channel. 

\----------

_ The wall was breaking, shattering, at last. The fans had seen and they wanted them, and it was the last of the power they needed. _

_ “It’s time.” _

__ \-----------

Mark felt like his head was bursting. The ringing in his ears was constant, ear-splitting: it made him want to scream. His vision darkened at the edges and for a second he couldn’t breathe-- 

A voice echoed through the pain, resonating and shaking the whole world at its’ corners. 

“I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

And everything went black.  

Amy found Mark on the floor. At first she thought he must just be taking a nap-- a strange place to take one, but -- “Mark, are you okay?” Pause. Heartbeat. “Mark?” He didn’t wake up. 

But then his eyes snapped open, and those weren’t Mark’s eyes. The black flooded them like ink spreading in water, sucking out the last of the man she loved. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and a kudos if you liked, or if you didn't like, tell me what you didn't!  
> Have a good day.


End file.
